


Husbands and Wives

by headbandsandflats



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Established Relationship, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 03:33:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15476757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headbandsandflats/pseuds/headbandsandflats
Summary: After eight years together, there are still confessions to be made and concerns to quash.  And dinner parties to throw.





	Husbands and Wives

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first attempt at fic in ages AND BOY WAS I RUSTY. Honestly, just finishing something was a bit of a triumph. Also, my first attempt ever at this, intimidatingly talented, fandom. Still working on getting these voices down. And it was written in one sitting. If I haven't scared you away yet, please enjoy this garbage fire.

Husbands and Wives 

“Get home safe!” Oliver called, raising one hand to wave at the departing guests, the other resting across Elio’s shoulders.

“Thanks for coming,” Elio echoed as they turned and moved back into the apartment. The smile fell from his face as soon as the door closed behind them. “Let’s _never_ do that again.”

“You say that every time.”

“I _mean_ it every time.”

“Come on,” the older man grinned, “you can’t tell me you weren’t aware what you were getting into. You were uniquely prepared to know what it was like to be the partner of a professor.”

Oliver began to collect the coffee mugs and dessert plates scattered around, tackling the remnants of the dinner party for his department. Each staff member took a turn throughout the academic year, a fact of which Elio was cognizant, yet seemingly continually unprepared for.

“My mother has a staff!” he insisted, beginning to load the dishwasher.

Oliver looked over his shoulder at his boyfriend and raised an eyebrow in mock disbelief. “Your mother has Mafalda, who is wonderful but still only one person, AND whom, the next time we’re back at the villa, I’ll be telling you called the staff. Then we’ll see who gets first dibs on the semifreddo.” Elio scoffed but Oliver could see the momentary panic in his eyes before his face contorted back into a grimace. “Either way, she has assistance. And it’s a different situation altogether.”

“How so?”

This time it was Elio who stopped to catch his partner’s gaze. “Come on, Oliver. You can’t be serious.”

“Uh…I’m entirely serious. How is our throwing a party different from anyone else doing so?”

Elio leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed – defensive. “Of course it’s different than the events my parents throw. Just like it’s different than the gatherings your coworkers host.” He continued, off of Oliver’s unknowing stare. “You’re really telling me you can’t spot the difference, the common thread between those parties and the ones we throw? Think about the hosts, Oliver. And the roles they play.”

Oliver bristled. “I’m tired, Elio. And I prefer we not play with riddles tonight. Something is clearly wrong, I need you to tell me what it is. I’m _asking_ you, to tell me, not make me guess.”

“Do you ever wonder why we’re like ships passing in the night at these things? It’s because the other couples naturally pair off. Men with the men, wives with the wives. Debbie is usually my saving grace at other people’s dinners, since she doesn’t always feel particularly welcome with the men, but when we’re hosting I do my job and stick with the ladies.”

Oliver’s head shot up, jaw dropped in shock. “Do your job? Who told you that you had to be June Cleaver just because I’ve got coworkers over? What have I ever done to make you think I expect you to play some weird faux-wife role to me?”

Elio’s hackles are raised as he spits out, “They may not be your expectations, but it’s expected nonetheless. We already stand out like sore thumbs in your world. If our parties didn’t follow the same model, host and hostess with their separate factions to manage, it would make it even clearer that you’re not like everyone else.”

“Make it clear that I’m not like everyone else?” Oliver’s eyes hardened. “Do you think your presence on the sorority side of this mixer negates the fact that I go to bed with a man every night? Fuck _my man_ every night? Do you really think they even care, Elio? They’re liberal arts professors, not priests.”

He shakes his head defiantly, “Do I think they care that you’re gay? Theoretically, no. But when faced with a situation in which gender roles come out to play, I don’t think they want a shake up from the status quo. I know you didn’t explicitly ask me to do this, but I feel like this is the only way I can support you in furthering your career. Listen to Beth offer me a casserole recipe, and Donna compliment my ‘trim figure’ by asking if I’ve used Jane Fonda’s tapes, and Shelley encourage me to get a puppy, in case I’m lonely while you’re working. Keep them out of their husbands’ hair. They’ll compliment our lovely home and our hospitality in the car, and by the time they’re getting ready for bed the evening will play out in their minds as dinner with Oliver and his live-in lover and they’ll barely even remember whether or not that person is a woman.” Elio takes a deep breath before continuing lowly, “And if someone questions who’s the masculine personality and who’s the feminine sort in our relationship, they’ll instantly identify you as the former. Which is what I want for you, when it comes to your colleagues.”

He is astonished, truly, that any of this, let alone all of it, has been running through Elio’s mind for an, apparently, lengthy amount of time. Of course, they’d both been reduced to that utterly absurd and entirely offensive comparison, on numerous occasions, but no one had ever confronted him at work about it. And he’d had no idea that Elio had concerns about his co-workers’ perceptions of him or that he had taken this idea so deeply to heart.

Oliver sunk down onto the sofa, training sad eyes on the man he loved. “Elio, it is so kind and so gracious of you to put what you think I need above your own comfort. But that’s not the kind of relationship I ever want us to have, not even for a handful of nights a year. I don’t want you to feel like you have to live in some _La Cage_ -esque farce to make my life easier. I would never ask that of you – I’d never even want to. And what makes you think my career needs a boost? Where is that coming from?”

He sighed, “That first summer my father asked you what your five-year plan was. You said, ‘assistant department head in five, department chair in ten’. My father responded –“

Oliver cut him off, “Ambitious, but not impossible. Is that what this is about? Me not living up to my potential?”

Elio’s eyes widened, and when he continued speaking his voice was half an octave higher as he rushed to dissuade Oliver’s hurt. “Oliver, no – _of course not_. This is about me, about my presence in your life holding you back. You’re brilliant, Oliver. And popular with your students. You’re certainly more knowledgeable and better prepared than any professor that I ever had. There’s no justifiable reason that you haven’t moved up in the department, except for the fact that you don’t fit the mold of what the university wants representing them.”

“How long have you been fretting about this?”

Elio glared. “One, I do not _fret_. Two, for a while but mostly since fucking Brian was selected as ADH. I mean, _Brian_ , really? The guy barely knows his Pre-Socratics from his Neoplatonists. It makes no logical sense for him to be promoted to that position over you.”

Oliver couldn’t help but crack a smile over his love’s ire on his behalf. “Please come here,” Oliver patted the spot next to him on the couch. The younger man huffed but spun down beside him. “Did you ever think that maybe I like my career exactly as it is?”

Elio blinked up at him. “Honestly? No. Not in a judgmental way, I just…I know you can do anything you want.”

“Right. What _I_ want. Babe, do you know why fucking Brian got the ADH spot? Because he hasn’t taken a vacation in eight years. He teaches classes during every break, attends every lecture and special event on campus – I asked him how old his kids were the other day and it took him over a minute to answer. I swear, I saw him calculating dates in his head.”

Elio snorted, and Oliver felt the tension in his shoulders release as he realized he was finally getting through to his partner. “The guy who gave your dad that predicted future…he wasn’t ambitious for ambition’s sake. He was trying to make the best of a bad situation. I was certain that my personal life was going to leave a lot to be desired. I’d marry Kim, build a family where I would never be able to truly be myself, _lead a life of quiet desperation and die with my song inside me_ and all that. I thought my work would be my only chance for fulfillment, so I’d just throw myself into that. And then you happened.”

“Well, first Kim very nearly happened,” Elio interjected haughtily. “ _Then_ I happened.” Oliver’s marriage near-miss, resulting in him almost literally leaving his fiancé at the altar, after vomiting in the synagogue’s bathroom but before he flew to Italy unannounced and still wearing his tuxedo, was something Elio never tired of bringing up.

“You were happening the whole time,” Oliver murmured, leaning over to steal a kiss.

“Elio, I love my life exactly as it is. I don’t know what would have happened if I’d thrown myself in completely, like Brian did. Maybe Columbia _wouldn’t_ want someone like me as a figurehead, who knows. Here’s what I’m sure of, though. I’m a tenured professor at one of the most prestigious universities in the country, teaching only the courses I want, when I want. I get to focus my creative energy on exploring and writing, and it’s resulted in amazing research trips, with my best friend by my side. And instead of spending my precious free time up the dean’s ass, I get to come home to the love of my life. And sometimes he’s an absolute pain in the ass, a moody artist who projects and assumes and _frets_. But mostly he plays me my favorite piano pieces, and cooks me his famous pasta dishes, and knows just how to soothe me when I’m stressed out. And always, he knows me completely and accepts me for who I am. It’s so much more than a title in the midst of an empty life. It’s so much more than I ever dreamed of.”

Elio finally relented completely, snuggling into his boyfriend’s chest as Oliver curved his arm around his favorite pair of delicate shoulders, bringing him in even closer. “I guess, when you put it like that, it doesn’t seem all bad.”

Oliver grinned, “It’ll do.”

“What do you say we put off the rest of this cleaning and go…soothe each other?”

“Sure. We can find out who’s the top and who’s the bottom.”

Elio smirked, “I thought you didn’t like to limit ourselves to society’s perception?”

A predatory smile crept across Oliver’s lips as he tugged Elio toward the bedroom. “Perfect. That means we’ll both get a turn tonight.”

_(And they did.)_

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated - critiques even more so.


End file.
